Vegeta and the Broken Table
by PeechTao
Summary: Vegeta visits Miria Trunks in a short one shot and learns the deatils of his would be death. Will he accept the change in his heart, or become the cold, emotionless brute Miria Bulma remembers? good read, funny too.


own nothing. 

i just went over the book and fixed any previous spelling/spacing/grammar errors, so now it's even better!

* * *

Vegeta and the Broken Table

He had wondered what it looked like, but found himself, perhaps, too afraid to find out. That day was different. He knew where he was walking and yet did not find himself able to stop.

Vegeta stood outside the door, looking up and reading the room number even though he knew very well where he was. The prince took a hand from his pocket and accessed the door. Slowly, quietly he strode in.

The lights flickered on, revealing what he had hoped to find. The time machine. Vegeta raised his head a measure to gain his courage. What was it about the contraption that caused such a metal clamp to form over his heart? Keep his feet from moving forward? His heart from beating? He walked around the machine a few times, eyeing it closely as if it were his foe in a battle field. It seemed harmless enough.

_Just a short trip,_ the prince told himself, _to Trunks and back. No one will know._

Closing the door he turned out the lights before climbing into the cockpit. He stared blankly over the buttons and gadgets, raking his memory to find out which one started it up. A half grin stole across his face when he found the correct one. Biting his tongue with meager hesitation, he pressed it down and waited for the reaction.

It took a few moments for him to realize what happened. In a split second he was transported into an alternative reality, plunging into Miria Trunks's version of the exact room he had left. Vegeta climbed out carefully, testing the ground as if it should collapse beneath him. Firm now in his belief of the area's safety, he took a few steps forward to see through the din of the room.

CLANG!

Vegeta hit the floor, unconscious.

* * *

"What was I supposed to think, really?" Bulma shrugged. 

"I guess you have a point. It is surprising to see him here after all. But, come on mom, a frying pan? Who are you, Chi-Chi?" Trunks looked up from icing a bruise on his past father's head to shoot a disapproving glance at his mother. "Goku told me all the horror stories while I was with him, so don't deny it . . ."

"I, dear Trunks," she interrupted, shaking the pan at him defensively, "am nothing like Chi-Chi. And trust me, I may not be able to shoot balls of fire off in all hours of the night like I know you do, but a frying pan comes just handy enough to offer me some protection!" She tucked the object under her arm and marched into the kitchen.

The son watched her leave with his father's smug grin across his pale lips before looking down to check on Vegeta. None-to-surprised, the past father was looking back. So, Trunks nonchalantly removed the rag and stood. "Good to see you're finely awake. I'd expect the time travel to have little effect on you, but mom's frying fiasco is a different matter. She pretty much wiped you out for an hour or two, so if your head hurts, blame her."

"I heard that Trunks Briefs!" Bulma yelled from the kitchen. "Don't forget, even if you are stronger and did defeat the androids, I'm still your mother and I have no problem taking you over my knee!"

Vegeta shook his head, almost wanting to laugh. He watched Trunks leave for a moment to place the ice pack back into the freezer. The question of why exactly the young man's arm was in a sling arose to the forefront of his mind, but decided the question could wait. Instead he sat up as Trunks returned and looked about the room. He knew how it looked in his time and the contrast was apparent. One wall was a light shade of yellow, fresh and new. Two others were nothing more than sheet metal that wasscratched with rust around the new, crooked windows. The last wall was a mix of green (that was the color in Vegeta's time) on one side and pale yellow on the other. In the middle was a strange mixture of the two between them with paint cans sitting beside it of either color. The rest of the room was empty, completely empty save the two sofas half refurbished with a familiar table with only one of its original legs between the couches.

"Not much now." Trunks said, lying across one couch. "It's a work in progress. Something to keep me busy, mom says. She couldn't decide for three months what color to paint everything before finely picking yellow."

Vegeta nodded, leaning forward, for whatever reason, he ran his hand across the harsh grooves and scarred surface of the table. In this place it was so different then the polished to perfection piece his wife doted upon.

"Mom wont let me get rid of it." Trunks broke the silent pause, noting the coffee table. "Says it means too much but wont tell me why." He nodded, indicating the gap that nearly split the boards in two. "There was blood here. Still is since I can't get it all out. Just my luck, it was probably mine or Gohan's from sometime."

"Not recently I hope." Vegeta replied.

Trunks blushed and sat up, rubbing his shoulder sling. "Yeah, uh, I finely had a run in with Cell the other day. You knew he took . . .or was supposed to take . . .my time machine. He was a little harder to handle then I thought."

"A little!" Bulma exclaimed, walking out with a cup of tea "you were in a coma for three weeks!"

"Mom!" Trunks shot her a glance and growled.

Bulma ignored him. "He drug himself inside, collapsed right there," she pointed to the door way, "and said 'I'm okey, mom, really!' I almost had a heart attack!"

Vegeta tossed the young man a wry grin. "Sounds just like him."

Bulma paused and looked at Vegeta. She bit her lip, set down her cup, and hurried back to the kitchen.

Trunks sighed as she hurried away. "It's a little strange for her seeing you around. She'll be all right ." He turned back to Vegeta. "Why are you here after all?"

Vegeta bit his tongue again. What should he say? I missed you son, so I decided to visit. My version of you is a stuck up snob, will you come live with me? "Bulma's been wondering about you, so I came to find out how you were doing to shut her up." he smiled inwardly at the wonderful lie.

"Well, the androids are gone," Trunks replied, "We don't have to worry about Cell either. And I'm about as popular as a rock to a scuba diver." he laughed a little. "It's probably better that way, you know?"

Vegeta thought about Hercule. "I agree."

Bulma appeared again, this time her face a little red and stray moisture from shed tears sparkling against her cheeks. "Trunks, dear, can you leave me and Vegeta for a little while? I think we should talk about something."

Trunks looked at her worriedly, standing. "You all right?" She didn't answer, so he nodded and left. Shutting the door behind himself, he hurried to his room and sat down beside the ventilation grate to better hear the conversation.

Bulma sat where Trunks had ben, running a finger around her cracked tea cup in absent-minded circles. "I suppose," she started off slowly, "Since you are here, you might like to know how you died. I haven't been fully honest about it all with Trunks, so please, don't tell him."

Vegeta nodded for her to go on and sat back to listen.

"The androids appeared a little after you decided to leave Trunks and I for good. You wanted to become a Super Saiyan like Goku was and that left no room for us. I told you not to go, for our son's sake, but you were heartless and cold. The day you stepped onto that ship to leave was the day those monsters knocked on our door to fight you. You accepted the way you always do and not ten minutes later your body went sailing through that window there," she pointed out the one, "and hit this coffee table. Trunks was screaming and I couldn't keep him quiet, so the androids found you and destroyed the room."

Her eyes began to water again as she rubbed the gash in the table top Trunks had mentioned earlier. In the next room, the young man had collapsed upon his bent knees in despair. For so long he admired his father, and here he was no more then the dead beat his mother had grown to loathe with such fierce hatred. His father cared nothing for him.

"The table almost spilt in half when you landed on top. You were sprawled across it, blood everywhere. There was nothing I could do for you, it was too late already. I could barely even recognize you. Do you know what you last words were?" she asked finely looking up at him.

Vegeta shook is head, trying to look neutral and unfazed though his body was about to explode with anger at his former self.

"You said, 'Not like me, Trunks.' and died. You said his name for the very first time even though he was almost a year old." She stopped speaking and looked down into her tea cup.

In a single, definitive motion Vegeta stood and took her gruffly into his arms. The tea cup shattered against the table as she held dearly to him. "I'm not that man, Bulma. You changed me."

* * *

Vegeta returned to his time, leaving the machine back in its room as if he had never left it. He walked into the living room, kissing a surprised Bulma as he passed her. He stopped before the table. The cursed table. With a boot, he stomped upon its top, blowing three legs off and splitting a crease down its center. It now resembled the one he'd seen in the future with Miria Trunks. Satisfied, he sat down. 

"What is wrong with you!" Bulma screamed.

"Just remembering something." he returned.

Bulma stared at him in shock and called Trunks into the room. "Take that table and toss it out. Your father decided to remember something, whatever that means!"

Vegeta set his boot on the fractured furniture piece. "You touch it, brat, and I will resurrect Cell to snap your right arm in half to complete my thought." he growled at his son.

Trunks cringed and backed away, wondering were in the galaxy the words had sprung from.

Bulma folded her arms. "Fine! Keep the stupid thing! What has gotten into you, Vegeta?"

The Prince didn't reply. Instead he stared sideways at the blue walls. "Woman, tomorrow we're painting the room yellow." He stood, kissed her again, and walked out after Trunks. "Come here, brat, you need some rounds in the gravity chamber, you're too weak. Then your growing your hair two feet long!"

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so how was it? please review. i have about 100 hits so far and 2 reviews. you people are so nice!


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